


King of the Beasts and Queen of the Clouds

by WildtailOfWindClan



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Backstory, Fanfiction, Gen, Over the Eternal Garden Wall and Into the Unknown, Poetry, royal au, side fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildtailOfWindClan/pseuds/WildtailOfWindClan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago in the Unknown, there lived a king and a queen. So the story goes, through tale and tale again, spread widely in the years passed by. History beckons through the leaves as autumn colors fall over the rooftops and mountains, over the blackened ravine, and softly it calls by a palace in a dream, over the garden wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dawning of Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> For a simple note, this story is a sidestory to my other fic. :D It can be read before or after, but both will prove an enjoyable read, I hope! Please enjoy! Chapter updates will alternate! (And this is for an original AU idea I had. It's mostly canon-based.)

**Chapter 1: The Dawning of Dusk**

 

_ Through dappled light and shrouded fields, _

_ In wooded green without freezing chill, _

_ A palace of the earth the forest yields, _

_ Glorifying but peace and endless goodwill. _

 

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

 

There was a time when the Unknown was a beautiful place. The sun’s rays beamed down upon a lively landscape, filled with lush woodlands dotted with populated cities that provided nearly everything for their residents. Clear water ran through streams, filing canals and rivers that carried trade between towns. Villages were almost always open to anyone, considering that they were friendly, which consequently led to a happy diversity of people and a bonded society that held no wrong. Not in the Queen’s eyes, at least.

The female ruler held firmly to the policy of helping others, the sweetest and best show of generosity she could offer. Coexisting in a world where everyone had a say took away a huge portion of monarchical power, though there was still enough influence to contain unruliness. Her movements were forever in favor of peace and harmony and  _ their _ subjects admired her judgement because of it. Their. The Queen and King’s.

He hoped that she would never forget that.

 

o-o-o-o-o

 

Hooves trotting against the ground pulled the King out of his reflection, the light-brown hair from uptop his crowned head swaying with every lurch of the royal carriage. His elegantly-clothed shoulders sagged when he released a long breath. Although only in his middle ages, the man felt old beyond belief, his face starting to wrinkle with senescence and the toll of stressing over a kingdom. Even so, his heart burned with a fiery passion for the Unknown, one that could never be suppressed. He just had a different way of showing it.

“Are you feeling alright?”

The King’s gaze swung over to the seat opposite from him, where a pretty woman in a commoner’s dress was sitting. Her rosey hair was pulled into a bun and a gleaming crown perched superior to it all, the only obvious indication that she was of noble position. Her pink lips pursed in loving concern.

“Yes,” the male responded softly, turning his head to look out the carriage's window once more. The earthen palace that he and his wife lived in could be seen fading in the distance, a wooden and stone structure decorated ornately with flowering vegetation. All year long, the plants were at their peak, meaning that there was hardly a worry of crop failure or that flowers would wilt. Comfortable sprinkles came often enough to keep the land moist. Due to the atmosphere, having the Palace of the Unknown built like it naturally rose out of the ground wasn’t a hard decision to make. Visitors usually commented their pleasure of the architecture, even when they were there on bad terms to ask the Queen for advice on personal matters. She always answered them with a “thank you” and a compromise. The King only watched.

“You know, Pottsfield has been preparing for their first harvest festival ever since Enoch arrived,” the Queen pointed out in attempt to fill the silence. “We haven’t visited in such a while, and now that the preparations are finished, we’ll be sharing the start of a new tradition.”

“I’m sure it will be an experience.” The King left his comment at that, not taking his eyes off of the passing villages and forest.

Every person they went by was visibly content, living and playing around their dwellings. There were few beggars or homeless within their boundaries, for all that had misfortune and the courage to come seeking the Queen’s attention received aid. Those in need were granted a generous sum of the royal treasury and sent away from the Palace of the Unknown with advice and an escort to the nearest town. This had been the royal practice for as long as the Queen’s reign began; for who needed riches if they were not to use them? It was a sensible arrangement, although the King noticed that the help they gave only fed the greed of others. He could tell by the way they dramatized their distress and held disappointment in their eyes whenever they received as much as the previous.

The monarch knew better than to confront this by instinct alone, but each time he noticed increased reason not to pity for people in want. He begun to grow a disdain. If the Queen figured it out, she didn’t say so.

The carriage finally came to a halt when they came upon the outer edges of Pottsfield, a small town with cheerful houses and a neat array of plantations. A group of costumed figures and turkeys stood grouped together by the road, all waving and calling greetings. Towering high above them all was a man made out of a kind of grass or leaf, his head a huge pumpkin that smiled down at them.

Amused, the Queen giggled. “Oh, isn’t this special.”

Once the coachman opened the door, they both got out of the royal carriage, their shoes meeting the same dirt path that commoners traveled on. Behind them, the driver started to tend to the horses. They would leave as soon as the equines were fit to return to the palace. Feeling settled, the King brushed his gloved hands over his robe, smoothing out the folds that came with prolonged sitting, and calmly followed his wife as she headed into the town. The civilians paraded around them.

“Welcome to Pottsfield, Your Majesty,” said someone in vegetable attire. “I hope you’ll enjoy the festival.”

“Thank you,” replied the King, moving along and listening to the merry ruckus everyone appeared to be making. Some of the villagers had instruments and were performing on the way to the town barn. A couple of black cats started dancing with the children. And the Queen.

The brown-haired man gave a soft smile that eventually faded away, whirling around to look out into the distancing forest. He was given the view of a strangely dressed male riding a dark steed instead, far beyond the crowd as not to disturb them but close enough to keep watch. The King’s visage darkened while he stared at the peculiar individual before a fair hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head to see the Queen flashing him a pearly grin.

“You’ll miss out if you don’t stay with us, dear,” she advised, gently tugging on his arm. “Come to the barn. Enoch set up the most wonderful games for the young ones and I hear the food is delicious.”

“I saw someone unfamiliar out there,” the King warned, his brown moustache framing his frown. “I’m not certain that this town is safe.”

The redhead gave a lighthearted shake of her head, her brilliant orbs darting back to the group. “Of course you saw somebody. Enoch is holding a grand party for the first time and we’re finally here to join in on the fun. It’s only the curiosity of the people that draws them near. Pottsfield is plenty safe.”

“It’s a necessity to tell Enoch about this if we’re to stay,” he insisted. “I don’t intend to take any risks.”

“You needn’t fret so much,” the Queen attempted, though her husband grasped her arm anyway and hurried off to meet the others in the barn.

The King didn’t doubt that the coachman could take care of himself if there was danger — anyone who worked for royalty were required to train as basic guards, something that he demanded a necessity — but he wasn’t sure how vulnerable the town’s people would be. They didn’t possess that kind of defense, having never been exposed to any real tribulation.

Speeding towards the center of town, the King cast a final, troubled glance at the spot where he had been looking, and seeing no one, continued down the street. A few festive villagers were waiting by the doors for them.

“Are you two alright, Your Majesties?” a lady asked, her head tilting.

“Where’s Enoch?” the King interrupted the Queen before she could reply, urgency in his tone.

“He’s with the children in the barn . . .”

The King nodded, dragging his wife into the shelter. He could hear the people outside commenting on his strangeness, though he kept silent about it. Inside, the party was very lively and musical, something that brought the Queen motive to laugh happily. She was almost always joyful.

“How nice,” she said, waving to a group of farmers that were exchanging carved pumpkins. They waved back at her.

Pulling her along, the King passed a circle of young Pottsfielders that were singing and dancing around the tallest member of the population, heading for the far end of the room. It was where the elders were telling stories to children and animals. He supposed the targeted host was also there.

He was about to approach them when his wife stopped him with her hand. “Pardon, sweet, but I thought we were to talk to Enoch immediately.”

“We are.”

The Queen sheepishly smiled, as if her interrupting him was embarrassing. “He’s over there.” She pointed back at the ring of villagers that he had passed.

“Where?”

“In the center, leading the dance,” the woman clarified, directing him to the collected company.

“You told me that Enoch was a cat.” He looked up, taking in the huge and spindly figure that resembled a man more than a feline.

“Well, he is. He’s in a costume like everyone else, though his is magical. He had it specially made for the harvest festival,” she explained, the song ending as the dancers split apart to rejoin their families. The supposed Enoch came closer to them, having spotted the couple. His fake pumpkin head sported a large grin.

“Howdy, friends. Can I do you somethin’?” he said, voice thick with a rural twang. “I take that you’re enjoyin’ the harvest?”

“What I’ve seen was absolutely delightful,” the Queen offered with a sweet smile.

“That does me well,” Enoch bowed, his body bending in a way that shouldn’t be possible had a human been inside. “And you, King?”

The male wasn’t startled by the lack of formality in Enoch’s speech, already used to it after traveling the Unknown with his wife. They made sure that the major figures in each town saw themselves as their equals, a useful tool in keeping peace in case of a revolt. As if anyone  _ would _ try and start one. Apart from regulating the Unknown’s significant happenings and taking charge in minor disputes, the royals never did much else. To interfere with peasant life was to put restrictions on people with the potential of rising up past them. It was usually a dangerous route to take and a factor to consider in the ageless act of ruling a kingdom as large as the Unknown, so they allowed municipal courts to exist and govern modest areas. The tactic of relevant equality between the royal family and the public has worked for as long as the King could remember.

“I have a report for you, Enoch of Pottsfield,” he responded with a brief nod. “Before I arrived in this barn, I caught sight of an unidentified man on horseback near the town limits. He seemed intent on keeping watch but did not approach. I’m afraid for the wellbeing of your citizens and possessions and want to warn of a possible threat. Just because you’re holding an event doesn’t mean all visitors are friendly.”

Enoch seemed to consider him for a moment, tipping his head and pressing his hands together. They were made of the same plant as the rest of his torso, which actually consisted of long leaves in strands that draped over whatever lay inside. Each had the ability to move freely at will, an astonishing feat of enchantment. Whoever was responsible for it had the King in utter perplexity and awe.

The disguised feline then dropped his limbs, responding, “You’ve got quite the thought there, haven’t you? I’ll make this simple. We can send y’all home again and close up the harvest festival if it looks mighty scary for the people. Or we can keep on and let ‘em newcomers do their own deeds. This first party is what sets the future for us in Pottsfield. If it doesn’t go well then no one‘ll wanna come back for a second.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” the Queen questioned. “It’s only one civilian! I’m sure he means no harm. Even if he does do something, he shouldn’t be enough close the festival for others!”

“Your man has good intentions,” came the response. “If King here believes that there’s a problem then we’re bound to listen. I’d rather a town full of disappointment than of victims. The death of one highwayman at the collapse of St. Leonard’s Bridge all that time ago does none to prove everyone else’s innocence. We could easily have another hostile thief sittin’ in wait.”

“But if you do then you won’t have anyone to live here! The resurrected  _ need _ your guidence. You were sent here for a purpose.”

“I was sent to uphold a village. It may be for the best that I care for their livin’ and send ‘em away. At least the ground’s got strength.”

“ _ No _ , Enoch. I won’t allow it. The people are happy. That’s all that matters,” the Queen said irrefutably. “The Unknown is supposed to be a place of comfort. A place where the only unknown is what terror is. I don’t want anyone to be afraid. Not if they don’t have to be.”

The King stared at his wife, disbelief shining in his eyes.  _ Does she really think the solution lies in naïvety? Our subjects are becoming less of themselves under this rule. With the knowledge that they can take what they want comes evil! These lands cannot protect the virtuous for long. The city judges can only decree so much, and even then they’re unable of enforcing themselves. Sitting by will not do! How can she be so blind? _ An idea sparked in his mind, arriving fast as lightning.

“I’m supposin’ that your mind can’t be changed,” Enoch gave in, moving to leave. “Have a wonderful —”

“Wait,” the King ordered, lifting his arm in a gesture of dominance that he quickly lowered. “Who enchanted your suit?”

“Pardon?”

The brown-haired man expectantly repeated, “Who enchanted your costume? It is rather astonishing.”

“A dandy pair livin’ in the backwoods created this ol’ thing, two magical sisters by the names of Adelaide and Whispers. I went on by their cottage whenever I came about the Unknown. Both of ‘em had such skill with humans and animals alike. They made this costume to run off of the magic released from the earth when the fruits of harvest come in. It does me a plenty amazin’ job. Can talk your language like a native,” Enoch told him with a chuckle.

“Interesting . . .” the King acknowledged, mind sparking new ideas from kindled possibility. “These enchantresses that go by Adelaide and Whispers aren’t far, yes?”

“If you can spare a couple hours then takin’ the trip ain’t gonna cost you nothin’. They stay somewhere easy to come by in those parts behind the Palace of the Unknown. Don’t even need directions ‘cept to go along the mountains. There’s a valley that’ll shortcut you all the way there faster than any other.”

“I appreciate it. I may stop by to thank them for helping you sometime,” he smiled, about to turn to rejoin his wife. That was when the doors of the barn slammed shut, engulfing the room in shadow.

Enoch whipped around to face the crowd by the entrance, alarm spiking the threads of his body like a cat’s pelt on edge. The entire gathering fell to a hushed quiet; even the children stopped moving, a shuffle to hide in familiar arms all but accomplished.

The Queen joined her arm with her husband’s, pressing herself against his side for security. The King took a step forward. His eyes narrowed to peer through the darkness.

“I see we’ve got a whole bunch of buddies here!” someone said gruffly, his cackle echoing in the space. “Let’s make this fun and play a game, shall we?”

“A-a game?” a small girl perked up hopefully, her vegetable outfit bouncing on her tiny form.

“Yeah, this game is  _ great _ ,” the voice responded. “Let’s have everyone join in!”

A moment passing by like nothing, the source revealed himself to the King, standing near the center of the aggregation. It was the rider that was spotted outside, though now he noticed that the rider’s horse was black in color, well-groomed and very strong. Looking closer, the brown-haired male could distinguish that he wore unfamiliar garb, his clothes like nothing the monarch had seen in the area before. The outfit appeared completely seamless and somehow managed to be more elaborate than his own royal dress in both design and style.

The man’s calloused hands held a sack big enough to fit a month’s worth of supply.  _ I don’t trust him. _

“Who are you?” Enoch posed, his stance revealing a forced hospitality.

The King narrowed his observations to the sly smirk spreading across the man’s rough features. It was unsettling.

“I’m the Highwayman,” the rider smiled widely, opening the bag, “and if your town wants to have it nice then I’ll be getting a harvest. How wonderful that will be!”

Time allotted for the shock to ebb off, enough for them to realize that the danger was real and unmistakable. There was a moment where the King was certain that Pottsfield’s leader would protect them, act to retain what belonged to his people. Then, slowly, Enoch lowered his guard and looked darkly upon the Highwayman. A few children were whimpering in mourning. Hushed worries were exchanged in the background.

“Highwayman, you’re offerin’ a difficult bargain. I’ll let you know Pottsfield needs our vegetables to have a festival,” he explained. “Though if you’re set then I can’t try anythin’, so long as you stay to your word.”

“Good. And you’ll keep yours to yourself.  _ All _ of you. Or this entire town will have wished for silence,” warned the man as he beckoned the villagers forward. “We wouldn’t want anyone to regret letting a story slip, now would we?”

Agreeing murmurs rippled about the crowd, raising the hairs on the back of the King’s neck. He grimaced when his wife gave a terse and sorrowful nod, Enoch retreating farther back to let the first couple of civilians place their labor’s fruits into the Highwayman’s bag.  _ What? How can they allow this to happen? _ The King felt his blood start to boil, rage pooling into him at the sight of Pottsfield submitting to the criminal.  _ Someone has to do something! _

When more of the crop was handed over to the Highwayman, too willingly for the King’s liking, his steed stepped forth with decisiveness, guided by the slap of prickly shoes on its flank. The robber brandished an entire set of teeth, his enormously wide grin splitting his visage in a way that shoved the King far off the edge of his patience.  _ Pottsfield may have to pay for this, but I cannot stand by as this villain takes from my kingdom! It is unacceptable! _ The ruler of the Unknown barged ahead of his wife, breaking her hold on his arm and causing a gasp to escape her lips.

“Hm? What is this?” the Highwayman snarled, having already secured the bulging sack onto his horse. It had to have contained enough produce to wipe the festival’s collection clean, foreshadowing famine for the blooming civilization.

“I am the King of the Unknown. I demand that you return what you have taken from the people of Pottsfield. Any action against us shall not go unpunished,” the King warned.

Royal decree didn’t seem to faze the Highwayman. To the ruler’s irritation, he brushed it off as child’s play, disrespectfully turning his animal around. His ride started to trot towards the exit.

“Halt!  _ Do you hear me _ ?” he snapped, outraged as the Queen covered her mouth to hide her distress, being completely useless in the dire situation while the other continued to ignore him. “Enoch! Everyone! Prevent him from leaving!”

Despite it all, no one moved except for the Highwayman and his stallion and not a soul dared stop him from pulling open the doors. The King frustratedly turned to Enoch, who had his gaze trained on the departing man.  _ What is the meaning of this? _

Then came the parting words, the Highwayman’s grating voice carrying to even the back of the barn. “I find it funny that the Unknown couldn’t do better in choosing its king after all this time. You are weak, a crowned coward like all the rest of them!” he roared, infuriating his target. “I’ll enjoy my stash, Pottsfield! Happy harvest for me!”

Hooves were pounding away before the King could chase after him. His face was red and wrathful as he lashed out at the being in charge of the catastrophe.

“You  _ disobeyed _ me!” he yelled. “You let a criminal out loose! You have put all of the Unknown in peril!”

Enoch waited out his venting before replying, “In all respect, I had to. Couldn’t have had him do anythin’ horrible to my town because we wanted to keep him here. It was not in my right. I’m sure you see that, King.”

“ _ Stop calling me that _ !” the robed man spat, seething. “I am your  _ superior _ ! You’ll address me as the rest of the town! I will not have this disregard any longer!”

The Queen finally recovered from her dolent stupor, placing herself between the King and Enoch. Her red hair had become slightly frizzed from all of the tension and she looked to be about to cry, though not doing so. “Calm yourself,  _ please _ . Enoch is our friend. He only wanted to help.”

He looked down at his wife, his edginess dying away by her beseeching stare. His jaw, previously tight, relaxed gradually and he felt his heart rate slow. Seeming to accept that he had cooled down, she moved to stand beside him, a comfort to the King more than anything else.

“Allow me to apologize,” Enoch started, bowing to prove his case. “If I offend—”

“That is unnecessary,” he interrupted. “I’ll have the proper actions taken to make sure the Highwayman does not return and will send someone to bring provisions to replace what was lost.”

“Thank you. I’ll let them know,” he said. “Will you be leavin’ with Her Majesty now that you’ve got a plan?”

“Queen is fine,” she interjected, getting a nod in response.

“Yes, my wife and I must go. Take care of this town, Enoch,” the King said, about to turn away. “Farewell.”

“One more thing: I do not think spreading word to the other towns would be good. It is best that they worry none for their safety. Best wishes, friend,” the Queen added sweetly.

“Goodbye,” the costumed cat replied and waved a hundred arms, still smiling. “It might be a small effort, but wishes can always do plenty a kindness.”

 

o-o-o-o-o

 

“We have made a promise I am not sure we can keep.”

“Quiet, dear sister. You must give it a chance.”

“Our talent lies in other areas. We have not dabbled in these arts before.”

“Inexperience has never hindered your progress in the past. Why shall this be any different?” she countered with certainty, preparing the book that rested in front of her. “Besides, this is for the benefit of everyone.”

Her kin did not respond, instead standing up to close the tidy wooden door to their shared cottage. She watched the young lady’s expression as she lingered by the entrance, listening to the sounds of a horse’s hooves beating swiftly away. Crickets chirped their songs beyond vision’s reach, singing under the cover of darkened woodland. The air held the aura of change.

The younger sister waited until the older was seated at their table before opening up an empty journal that displayed a strange symbol on the cover. She dipped a black feather in ink, allowing the excess to drip back into the small bottle.

“The only reason I do this is because I believe his morals are strong,” the elder sibling said. “Perhaps this will redeem itself in the future.”

“For the Kingdom of the Unknown,” she smiled in return. Her quill pen touched paper. “We begin.” 


	2. Two Sides of Amiss

**Chapter 2: Two Sides of Amiss**

 

_ Once beauty morphs to darkest black, _

_ Persuaded by each ancient spell, _

_ Attempts of creation are surely on track, _

_ Though the secret is for only future to tell. _

 

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

 

The dog gave a fearful howl. Stepping away from the two sisters, the canine tried to escape, ignorant of the branches that grew around its paws. Soon it was locked in place, looked down upon by the witches that wrought yet another animal misery.

“I am sorry,” Whispers, the eldest, frowned, eyes tired and yellowing from countless seasons of practicing beastly magic. “We shan’t hurt you any longer. Forgive us.”

Whimpering, the animal allowed its head to droop, ears low as the vegetation beneath it began to take over. The fluffiness of the dog’s fur began to drop away and harden, oil seeping from its firming pelt while its claws grew larger and sharper. A growl escaped the creature’s throat, quieting almost immediately.

“This is promising. We’re approaching our goal.” Adelaide smiled coldly, watching as the animal stilled, becoming like a tree that only resembled its species. She dipped her quill in ink again, writing down the results as she always did. The book that they begun taking notes in years ago had been filled, along with three more and half of another. All depicted failed experiments and spells that had gone wrong, intricate details on every single one of them.

“I sense a growing wickedness in our practice,” Whispers said solemnly, murmuring words of old under her breath. Adelaide could guess what they were without having to listen, remembering the sweet taste of white magic as it left her lips so long ago. She did not bother to recite any of them anymore, not with the task the King set for them lingering unfinished for such an extensive time. And also, she quite liked the feeling she got when working with the Unknown’s darker aspects. It held a peculiar thrill that could not be beat by petty conjurations.

After setting the book down on the table, the younger woman caged up the little amalgamation in the basement. She was pleased to see that its bitter eyes tracked her movements even though its body was stiff and without protest. Soon, she felt, the beast that they were doing their best to create would be ready for release into the forest.

Excitement bubbled up with a childish aura, causing her to walk the length of their little collection, where the history of the past few moons were laid out before her in separate cages. All were short of what she needed, though the progress shown gave her confidence.

The back contained groups of fanged frogs, too dormant to actually bite anything besides the stray bug. Next to them was a bird that had been combined with poison ivy, though the mix showed no physical signs of change apart from color and was passive as well. Further along were various other beings, from the creepily deformed cat to the strange and simple plant-like creatures.

She stopped by the cage of a snake with petals for scales, made from the remnants of wilting flowers. It hissed at her then curled up into a tight coil on the far side. Adelaide had been especially proud when the snake had kept its personality. Ever since then she had been determined to further a certain aspect of her spells. The dog she had just caged proved her theory to be a good one.

“Adelaide. The townspeople are speaking of us outside,” her sister told her from the staircase, sounding unhappy.

The maroon-cloaked entrantress made an effort to approach the door, curiously passing by a darkly dressed Whispers as she strolled into the cottage’s main room. Her gaze darted to the mesh windows, the shadows of lingering passerby sparking her interest. Muffled voices carried from the screen. She pressed her ear against the wire, listening.

“. . . the Witches of the Unknown. I heard they do untellable things.”

“Ma told me to stay clear these parts. Animals are disappearin’. Say they are eatin’ them?”

“Nah, what would a sorceress want with good meat? I think they’re  _ drainin _ ’ _ their life away _ to make themselves even more powerful. Eerie, huh? I heard soon they’ll go after  _ children _ that wander too far from home.”

“Her Majesty won’t let them! She’ll save us from these horrid monsters!”

“Shh . . . They’ll come after you . . .” The words dropped off as the exchange took place in hushed tones that Adelaide couldn’t pick up. Her lips dipped into a thoughtful frown. A short while later, she could hear them again.

“I-I won’t ever run out again! I’ll be a proper boy!”

“As Honest Fred, you’d better. Now we’d best be leavin’ before they catch us. Come quickly, son.”

Their shadows faded into the forest, leaving the younger _Witch of the Unknown_ to her lonesome. She smirked. _This title seems much more admirable than ‘_ enchantress _’._ _I find it pleasing._

Whispers, however, did not.

“We have become outcasts,” the elder sibling could not help but obnoxiously point out, stepping beside her. “They do not view us to be the same people as before.”

“Can you see?” Adelaide turned around, returning to the table where her fourth book rested in need of completion. She sat down in the wooden chair, flipping the pages carefully with one hand as she prepared the pen with the other. “We have achieved bounteous knowledge and understanding, came upon the realization of our potentials, found in us the path to giving back to this place what it had been waiting for for years. Tell me, sister. Is what we are doing not proof that we have changed?”

“We used to be revered by those that had never set eye upon us,” Whispers deflected, her pale face drooping as she let out a breath.

“No loss, I’m certain,” she brushed off effortlessly, dabbing the quill in ink after a line had been written. “Once the King has his beast roaming free, we’ll be  _ heroes _ . Or heroines, however one might put it. Every living creature will be stricken with fear and shall learn to protect themselves. We will have a world that is no longer vulnerable to feeble threats, having brought forth vigilance upon the people.”

“You’re beginning to sound like him.” Whispers sat down in the chair across the table, riffling through another volume of their studies, probably trying to find a particular entry. She gave it closer inspection.

“The King arrives at our door often to check on us and retrieve our specimens. It’d be difficult not to become influenced by his speeches. Of course, I find that many of his sayings are . . .  _ idealistic _ and slightly naïve. Though our Queen is much worse in the matter.”

“Talking treason, now are we, sister?” the female said nonchalantly, the barest hint of accusation beneath her words.

Adelaide laughed, causing her hand to jump. “You have the best sense of humor when you decide to come out of your shell,” she commented with joy, easily removing the stray mark on the page with a spell. The small amount of black liquid she extracted from the paper found its way back into the bottle. “Speaking of shells, I found a stash of lovely turtles out in the forest the last time I was searching. We should retrieve them. I believe their resilience could add longevity to the creature’s own welfare. Perhaps even by gaining it immortality.”

Instead of commenting about that, Whispers pointed to what she was reading with hands that reflected the last few remains of her past self’s allure. “Do you recall the child that had to pay the fee of our first accident?”

“ _ Incident _ ,” she corrected, continuing to write. “Yes, I remember. He was such a small thing. So fragile. Practically useless in the world.”

“He was a person, granted the permission to travel to our realm from another. I could tell the moment we crossed paths with him that he was no ordinary inhabitant of the Unknown. You could too.”

“True. Those that wander between boundaries have always held a special quality. It’s rather intriguing to imagine what might set them apart from us,” Adelaide mused. She began to draw the gnarling canine from before, setting down a rough base without much artistic skill. Magic would take care of the rest for her.

“I am saddened to think we’ve taken from him the ability to return to whence he came,” Whispers said.

“No need for melancholy. We agreed that his memory would not retain of his previous existence. He became something and someone else, born again in this forest to stay in this forest. And for all I’ve heard, he’s doing wonderfully as a horse,” came the convincing response. The younger witch smiled as she put down her quill. She had finished. “You agreed at the time that we should allow him to set off, especially since changing him back would take considerable effort. Now Fred is very popular amongst the people! Anyone would be able to see that no loss came about.”

Whispers did not say anything else, closing the book she had flipped through. The elder sibling appeared tired and drained. “I will rest for today. Do as you wish.”

Adelaide left the table happily, feeling accomplished. She cast her sister a partial wave, making for the door. “I’ll be going out to fetch some of those turtles. Expect me back before sundown.”

Turning the handle, the aging woman stepped out into the forest, tilting her head to look at the expanses of greenery that flourished so close to her homestead. She kept a slow pace as she made her way in further, taking note on every change in the scene. To say that the Queen’s vision of the Unknown was wrong would be a lie. Everything around the towns were lush, filled with flowers and plants rich from the magical energy in the soil and water. But go further into the wood’s depths . . . and the world became the wilderness it was.

Adelaide loved that about the Unknown. Even the most beautiful things contained the darkest secrets, hidden beneath the mask of belief. The Queen’s utopia was laden with that truth, one philosophical reality that her measly emotions could never change.

The trees became thicker. The grass grew more gray. Vines licked the sides of rocks buried in the dirt and blossoms dwindled in favor of mosses and fungi. Mist hung heavy in the air. It gave it an eerie weight that was unmatched.

_ Whoever wants to ignore the existence of this part of the forest has an awful taste for nature, _ Adelaide concluded, brushing past a swath of mushrooms as they took apart a fallen tree. She was sure she heard something snap at her when she did so, but kept going, intent on finding what she came for.

Once having traversed more ground, a river stretched out before her, wide and gushing with writhing life. Fish sent sprays of water over their surroundings, soaking the rocky dirt on the bank and splashing slick stones. The lack of light did little to dampen their energy; the rapids were raging, although its passage was noticeably narrow.

_ Ah. _ This was it.

She had been to the area before on a previous expedition, looking for specimens and possible elements her sister could use during the experiments. Whispers had always been one for enchanting objects or beings to perform some deed. In contrast, the younger witch preferred to create conjurations, casting spells using her knowledge of chemical compounds and reactions. Magic between the two of them led to a multitude of possibilities that helped drastically in the search. They worked together. And it would pay off very soon.

Bending over near the waterside, the woman let her sight penetrate the water’s foaming cover ever so carefully, eyes as sharp as ever. Lumpy shapes swarmed underneath the fish, keeping up the fight against the current unlike the masses above them. The creatures were both fast and strong, their will something that Adelaide wanted to harness. They were also a dark shade of olive, nearly black and looking rather ominous.

Every now and then, a turtle would come up to breathe, ducking back into the water to hide with the others not too long afterwards. They stayed clear of the land.  _ Smart little things, they are. _

It only made Adelaide more eager.

“Come out to feed, my turtles,” she hummed soothingly, sweeping her hand to beckon their attention as she ruffled the fronds of the nearby fern. The action seemed to do nothing at first. Then, slowly, one of the reptiles slid onto the land, climbing steadily to meet her. Another followed suit.

Seconds earlier, she had rearranged the chemicals in the bush to appeal to the senses, the smell and look of the plant appearing more appealing. All it took was a touch and a simple command. This was a prime example of her ability, the gift she was given upon birth. She had done it with the slightest effort. Study and experience brought both her and her sibling much improvement.

The turtles gave the witch no regard, focused on what they wanted to eat. When a few got close enough, Adelaide simply snatched them up with her hands. A couple others that she could not carry began to devour the plant she adapted, filling themselves ravenously. It did not have any special effect on them.

“You all will make nice as little monsters for my King,” the ex-enchantress said in a giddy tone, holding them firmly. She had captured four turtles. If she brought a basket then she’d be able to carry more.

The amphibians struggled in her grip, though without any reward.  _ Nevermind that. They are strong creatures. _ She didn’t really expect them to escape, anyway. And when she delivered the turtles to her sister for tampering, she would see if their usefulness would actually transfer to their goal. Not that she doubted that, either.

 

o-o-o-o-o

 

“Your Majesty.” Whispers curtsied to the best of her ability, allowing the King to enter the cottage.

The man was looking older. Not weaker, though, and if anyone was to pay attention, he appeared to have become tougher than ever. His stark build, Adelaide noted, was likely the result of whatever vigorous training he’d participated in behind palace walls. The Queen must have found his behavior to be senseless in a time of endless peace. The King must have ignored it.

“How is the search coming along?”

“We have made spectacular progress,” Adelaide smiled, standing by the cage of turtles she placed on a wooden table in the back of the room. “Every outcome has improved steadily. Our last experiment was  _ unfathomably _ vicious. Poor thing wasn’t able to move much, sadly. I had anticipated success.”

“What are these for?” the monarch asked, walking towards her, intrigued eyes on the trapped reptiles.

Whispers shut the door. “We haven’t the chance to test them yet, but we believe that they might help us create the beast.”

“Such a dark and strange color,” the younger sister mused, almost a compliment. She trailed her hand over the top of the enclosure, causing their heads to turn and look at her. “Aren’t they magical? Resilient? Enduring? These black turtles are easily specimen to be proud of.”

Crown glinting in the low light, the King leaned closer to inspect them. He huffed. “I will be  _ proud _ when they make me a monster. We have waited long enough. My wife’s ways are abating the people.”

A turtle prodded the bars close to the humans. Another tried to dig its way out. The enforced metal didn’t cooperate with their attempts.

“The Queen has held a shaky rule, hasn’t she?” Adelaide said, watching the caged animals for a few more seconds and then turning away to face her kin. Whispers looked uncomfortably distant, as if pondering a matter more important than the King’s visit.

“‘ _ Held _ ’ is an overstatement,” the royal male deadpanned, standing tall once more. “Despite that, I am assured that you both are doing your best to reform my kingdom. These past years have not been in vain.”

“Unquestionably so,” she responded without a doubt in her heart, striding to the table where the journals they’d kept were placed. She flipped open the cover of the latest book she was working on. “Are you interested in reading our recent entries?”

He strolled to meet her, a hand reaching for the journal, eyes skimming the pages. His mustache twitched, hinting of a grin. “They certainly resemble beasts. It amuses me how you manage to combine the aspects of so few varieties of plants and animals and reach such a diverse collection of results. None of which have met the standard, might I add.”

“It is no more impressive than what we’ll finish with, and we will, I can tell you,” Adelaide shook off his words, instead moving past Whispers to head to the basement. “Follow me. My sister and I have waited for your return.”

The elder woman appeared to snap back into reality, tailing her sibling with a spare glance at the King, who followed on command. He came to visit them somewhat periodically to the point where they could consider themselves well-acquainted, though only Adelaide felt it right to act as equals. Whispers still considered herself a subject under him, perhaps even a servant that did not live at the palace, and couldn’t bring herself to drop the formalities.

Descending the stairs, the three were greeted by the sounds of stirring beings, the atmosphere drenched in tired agitation. Adelaide thought it was refreshing.  _ Oh, the accomplishment. _

“This is . . . interesting,” the King commented, jumping when the petal-snake lunged in his direction, only to reel back in pain. “ _ That one _ is feisty! The most I’ve seen so far. What’s wrong with it?”

“The miserable thing is  _ wilting _ . I thought that using dying flowers would bring out the snake’s raw macabreness, but alas, shame is that that comes with health consequences,” Adelaide pointed out as it curled up on itself, glaring at them with sickly and exhausted eyes. “I hardly had to worry my sister to enchant its confinement, seeing as it cannot even complete its attacks.” She tsked.

The King moved on, scanning each creature and asking about them even though he saw the journal. Most were problematic in multiple ways, yet all looked promising. It was a better selection than the last time he came to check on them. He made his thoughts on that fairly evident.

“Thank you, my King,” Whispers said once they were done browsing, having rounded up the animals for transport in one large cage outside of the cottage. Her magic would make sure that they could be carried away by the King’s horse without much hassle. A simple incantation did the trick.

“I appreciate it, Whispers, Adelaide,” the robed man thanked them, handing over the usual velvet bag of payment. Inside, it contained valuable gems and coins from the palace treasury, and although Whispers and Adelaide would have taken the job without being gifted such a fortune, they needed to eat. Properly, at least, and gathering food from the nearby resources was tiresome coupled with their task. Not to mention, Whispers could not enchant items unless she had them, and they had to get those from the towns.

Of course, they used different disguises to veil their appearances when they went. They wouldn’t want word of them spreading to the Queen or she would become suspicious. And that would not be beneficial at all.

“Safe travels,” Adelaide waved as he mounted his steed, having secured the warped animals. He had told her before that their experiments would be treated properly wherever he took them, presumably away from other species that may be harmed by failed beast attempts, but she honestly didn’t care what happened to them. As long as she furthered her own skills and knowledge, none else mattered.

“Farewell,” the King gave the two one last word before his ride galloped away, disappearing along the hidden valley path that led to his palace.

Adelaide dropped her grin once he was gone, peering with mild disinterest into the bag of riches. “We must continue, sister. Will you attempt morphing those turtles?”

“If you wish,” Whispers opened the door to the cottage, going back inside to proceed.

The other witch followed, planning to sort the money. She would have to go to the market soon.  _ A despicable way to spend my time. _ Adelaide wasn’t very fond of the public. But it had to be done.

Magic couldn’t solve every problem.

 

o-o-o-o-o

 

“Have they changed at all?” Adelaide frowned after sorting the money later that afternoon, watching the elder woman try to enchant the turtles. The freed black figures wandered aimlessly about the tabletop.

Whispers had one of them pinned down by its shell, murmuring under her breath. The amphibian gave her a look that suggested discomfort but nothing significant happened. She released it, allowing the turtle to crawl away like the others. She sighed. “I’m afraid not. Your ideas of a beast gaining immortality might be misplaced.”

“Hmm . . .” the former enchantress hummed in dubiosity. Her eyes traced the turtle, observing it closely. If anything, it struck her as sluggish. Sleepy.  _ Timid _ , almost.

But . . . she could sense a darkness deep within it, camouflaging with the natural mystery found in all animals of the murky part of the forest. The trait was subtle and well-nigh impossible to notice. However, Adelaide could feel it.

“Do not worry, my dear Whispers,” the younger started, twiddling her fingers in anticipation. “Although that has yet to be found, these turtles have proven to be as special as I had thought, only in a different manner. They are the first not to change their image, though I am able to perceive the intent we are seeking beneath their somewhat frivolous demeanor.”

Her sister raised her eyebrows in puzzlement. “What are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps we should focus on transformations that aren’t so boringly physical. The King might have his ways set about bruteness, but that is surely a downfall. Maybe, in some circumstance, we should change the  _ mind.  _ We could make it to where we can seep influence into their very  _ souls _ and drive their hearts to become the beast,” she beamed like it was the happiest plan in the universe, the solution to it all. “Every creature holds evil in them, be it humans or animals. We simply have to enhance it.”

Whispers’ visage became something unreadable. She stood from her seat. “Excuse me. I shall take a walk outside. I need to clear my head after such an eventful day. Please allow the cottage to air out also.”

“Of course. Enjoy the stroll, sister,” Adelaide smiled innocently as Whispers walked out, leaving the door open. She soon made an effort to open the windows as well, the fresh dusk breeze blowing into her stale world. The woman grinned, turning around. She then spotted a peculiar event.

Two of her more clever experiments had scurried to the edge of the drawerless desk, falling and hitting the wood floor with resounding thumps, shells protecting their fragile insides. They immediately started to traverse the cottage and Adelaide watched in curious amusement as they continued to the open door, having found their escape. She let them leave. She wondered what fate awaited them.

And it wasn’t like anyone would care much about their disappearance. What harm could a couple of miniscule turtles do, anyway?


	3. True Words of Distress

**Chapter 3: True Words of Distress**

_The sun asks the wind to and fro,_

_What might his chill mean for love,_

_And she frowns upon an awful woe,_

_Told that cherished warmth is solely above._

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

"Alack! Alack! What might this be?" the Queen cried out at the sight of the caged animals, eyes wide in shock. She took a hasty step forward, some of her red hair tumbling out of her crown's hold as she grasped her husband's arm, gaze locked on the poor things.

A pair of black turtles sleepily blinked up at the woman, hiding beneath the oversized leg of a strange . . . something. A bear, maybe. Or a wolf. Or a lizard. She wasn't quite sure which.

The King softly brushed her hand away, quirking a half-smile. "I told you before, my dear. They were purchased from the local forest. Those animals are suffering because of their deformities and ailments, so we must be kind to them and put them out of their misery."

Her heart panged with hurt as a few servants proceeded to carry them away, towards the back of the palace, where the storage and kitchens were. _Oh no, no . . ._ She never took well to the occasional deliveries of the creatures from the "weird generation of deformities", as her equal once put it. But she always had to watch when he returned from his trips.

And it pained her every time.

Adjusting his gloves, the King started down the hall, moving further into their regal home. Quaint and natural as it was, the vanity still existed in tiny accents, a crystal chandelier hanging in front of a ligneous archway or a country rug across the floor with gold thread knit into the seams. The windows were covered in beautifully maintained vined plants. Flowers of all kinds dotted the gardens and every now and then she could catch a glimpse of them outside.

She followed the King despite her initial need to protest, hurrying along the polished stone walkway in attempt to catch up to him. He made no visual effort to slow, but she was able to match his pace. Her lips pressed into a pouting line, posture straightening.

It was silent as they descended the staircase, apart from the clicking of their shoes against the reformed ground. The Queen's eyes found much interest in that ground. Until the quiet tension broke, that was.

"Enoch continues to deny our compensations," he said, not turning his head in her direction. "The messenger brought back all of the meat we offered so I had it sent to the market to be sold to the vendors there, like we've been doing with the extra food for the past couple of years. I thought . . . you might wish to know."

 _Sold?_ It seemed such a waste. The poor could not afford to buy meat very often. "What for? It would be better to donate it. Our funds are satisfactory."

"They shall stay that way, now that we are properly participating in the economy. We should not keep easily handing out our riches to people who do not return them. At least not without a way to keep the funds coming back," the man said, voice carrying a hint of frustration. "This is the best we can do."

She didn't want to argue, but she would have, given that the King's response was _entirely_ biased and false. Maybe _should have_. Pottsfield was supposed to get the provisions for free, meaning that there would be no loss if someone else were granted them. And meat was rare, almost, in the Unknown. A delicacy. Life was cherished. Only under special conditions did anyone eat other than a vegetarian's diet.

But she refused to say a thing. Confrontation ruins relationships.

o-o-o-o-o

Days had passed, the usual routine and visits bringing something of a smile to the Queen's face. She immensely enjoyed helping others. It made her feel actually worthwhile.

Though, the King seemed to not be able to care less about it. His frowns grew with each subject that stumbled in through the main gates, begging and praising and pleading for aid. And she was certain that his stance was reluctant to uphold assistance.

How heartless, his act was becoming. For it was an act, surely. Her King would not dare actually believe that the people weren't deserving and his greed was next to none.

 _Perhaps . . . there's simply a plague on his mind?_ Thoughtfully, the Queen's attention darted back to him.

The robed man was sitting on his throne, resting his head handsomely upon a gloved hand, looking out into another world entirely. _Plague, indeed._

"Dear?" she called, walking towards him, having been escorting the last person out of the palace. "Is there something ailing you?"

The male turned to look at her, expression distant, slightly troubled. "Hm? No, nothing you must worry yourself over," he replied after a brief pause.

She didn't believe him, instinctively wanting to resolve whatever problem he might be facing. "Allow me to do what I can to lessen your burdens, may there be any," the woman offered, cheeks rosy with hope. _I can fix this. I can bring him happiness again._ "What is bothering you?"

"My Queen," he said, beginning to grin, a low laugh bubbling up from his hidden depths, "I appreciate your concern, but you needn't fuss. The only issue I have is on what we're to order for dinner."

The royal raised her eyebrows. "I'd hope that our meal isn't that troublesome."

He smiled genuinely. "I'd hope so, too."

o-o-o-o-o

There wasn't any trouble with dinner that night. Or the next. The cooks prepared everything skillfully. The servants were rewarded for their careful dedication. The Queen and King were happy.

Most of the time.

The Queen continued to catch glimpses of the other monarch's moods here and there: averting eye contact, distance from the small discussions they held, the tensing and relaxing of posture. She would direct him towards it inconspicuously, hoping an explanation would arise.

None came. He would redirect himself or drop the topic entirely, finding some sort of excuse. It made her . . . uncomfortable. And, naïvety forbid, suspicious. Just a bit.

She missed the times where they could share in closeness and revel in joy, bringing the Unknown peace together. _We could still do that._ She was convinced. Though, for the moment, they quarreled with clashing ideas more often than not. He would make it a game, one she didn't enjoy playing. The King's pieces attacked with ferocity, viciousness and strength. He would barrel through with logic and experience until the Queen thought his point indestructible. But she had kindness, mercy and support. Their spectators, the palace's inhabitants, the civilians, decided in the end, placing themselves in favor of the Queen. So ended nearly every argument, every two-sided decree.

The King looked to be fed up with it. Whenever he had a statement, it became progressively enforced to try and get her to agree. Because that was how it was. To rule others, one's own must already be conquered.

That much she understood, and that law governed her life, unrelinquished. It was probably the first thing the Queen hated in her existence. _Let there not be a second._

Alighting down on their shared mattress, in her royal nightclothes, the woman let herself ponder the bedroom while her spouse finished readying for sleep. The room was grand, simple, natural and rustic to the very designs on the walls. An intricate wooden dresser sat on the far side, near windows draped with silk curtains. A candle holder with a silver handle was the only object on the bedside table, its wick aflame with pretty, orange light. Small lines of smoke billowed out towards the window from its dancing form, flying languidly, curling peacefully into the dim sky.

Something shuffled behind her, the rustling of a robe brushing the bed sheets. "Watching the fire, sweet?"

The Queen tipped her head, looking back at the King with a soft smile. "Observing, yes." She saw as he lowered himself, getting into an appropriate position for slumber.

He hummed acknowledgement, that same distance clouding his gaze. "What do you see in it?"

Curious, she decided to humor his question. "Beauty," she said, feeling a slight reverie coming along, "and lenience. No matter how far the sky, the smoke will always find its way when the fire lets it go. The flame's brightness is gentle and fluid . . . with the candle, it can light enough to rid the dark."

"But flames can also be dangerous and deadly," the King pointed out. "It can ravage a village, a town, bring soldiers to their knees. Fire's smoke can make people cough and sicken them. Burning crops cause panic."

"Why must you be so negative?" the redhead huffed, mood tainted by the fearful images. They were extremely unpleasant. They made her afraid. Why was her husband obsessed with force? She saw no benefit for it.

"I was simply trying to acquaint your musings," he replied. "If you'll notice, every pretty thing has a secret truth beneath it. The Unknown's not as wonderful as one might believe. It is up to us to prepare for the worst so that we may vanquish evil as it interferes with our lives."

"There isn't any evil, my King . . ."

" _No evil_? Evidence sits plainly throughout our kingdom that there is _in fact_ evil!" the man exclaimed, voice rising too high for her comfort. "You've heard the reports of increased Highwayman activity, of the scavengers ripping apart entire fields until trespassing laws were demanded, of the _liars_ that walk into this palace and take our riches for their own gain!"

The Queen gasped, taken aback. "Those people are far from _liars_. They come to us asking for help! We give it to aid! Why should we ever think to deny those who plead us?"

He scowled at her, shaking his head, a darkness in his expression. "You may be asked to give your life one day, my Queen. Then what shall you do?"

She was silent, orbs watery with sorrow, lips pressed thin.

The King closed his eyes, head resting on the pillow as he pulled the covers over himself. "Don't drift too deeply. Tomorrow's calling."

The Queen's temperament was mourning the conversation, traces of drowsiness chased away by apprehension. "I will rest . . . and sweet . . . dreams."

o-o-o-o-o

Smiling softly, the female monarch looked over the subtle designs on her new teacup, adoring the impressive craftsmanship and passion put into it. She _loved_ it. "This is wonderful! Spectacular job you did here!" the Queen exclaimed, beaming back at the servant standing happily near the dining table, eyes ablaze with joy. "You are incredibly talented, Alice."

The elated servant, her hands hidden respectfully behind her back, was bouncing on the heels of her feet. "Thank you. _Thank you_ , Your Majesty, miss Queen. It means so much to me."

The woman laughed warmly, cheeks flushed. "I'll cherish your gift always. Please continue being creative."

"I will. _I will_ , I promise." Alice dipped into a curtsy, grinning wider than thought possible as she made an exit through one of the huge archways, unable to keep from giggling up the staircase.

The Queen continued to admire the cup in her hand, setting it softly in front of her as the plates of food were brought out. Her attention lifted to the steam. She was pleased with the effort the cooks gave to keep it hot for them. Their dinner was very appealing, which she made clear, smiling all the while.

The King's eyes were trained at her from across the table, borderline pensive. He made a motion towards her. "That was unexpected."

She nodded in delight. "A surprise. It touches me how sweet our servants are. They really do care for us."

"What need of you a teacup?" he inquired, beginning on the vegetables. They came from the palace gardens, tended to by its own inhabitants.

"Such a strange one," she laughed, spirit continually soaring. Her mood was bright after a refreshing exchange with anyone. It lasted fairly long each and every occurrence. Presents were lovely, smiles more so.

"Better she craft you a weapon so you can protect yourself," the King deadpanned. "Even if it's ceramic, it'd do you more than what you have now. Despite the fact that you probably wouldn't use it under any circumstance."

The Queen laughed mid-bite. "I would never desire to, that you're right! But I'd much rather defend myself against antiquated chalices." She swallowed, the aftertaste of the carrots satisfyingly delicious. "Won't that be something."

The King raised a brow, eyeing his own cup for a heartbeat. It was gold-plated and patterned, on account of being royalty and wanting to show wealth, but stripped of otherwise excessive precious materials. Jems went into the treasury. His wife's joke was pointedly aimed at her preference of teas and water over other substances. He didn't appear too amused by it.

"Anyway, have you heard from Enoch since last?"

"Nothing apart from his insistence to recover Pottsfield himself," he said, giving her an indecipherable expression. "I'm still quite skeptical."

"That prideful cat," the Queen chuckled fondly. "He should accept our repayment."

"I think his independence is respectful, even if he's possibly unable to sustain it," he remarked in a suggesting tone, pausing to chew a piece of broccoli. "Allowing an animal to govern a town of lost human souls at all is _shockingly_ trusting." Somehow, she sensed that it wasn't that shocking.

"Oh, but he's as capable as us, you see? His enchantresses he mentioned did an _amazing_ job with his suit! Now he can communicate with his townsfolk whenever he needs to," she gushed, trying to rub a little of her positivity off on him. "That reminds me — I still have to meet them and return the favor for making such a lively festival possible!"

"Even magic has its limits and downfalls," the King stated knowingly, acquiring that familiar distance as he spoke. "His abilities in the costume can only reach so far. In the end, he's just a feline trying to fit his way into the hierarchy."

The royal blinked, unsure of how she should respond. _We've been unable to change things, either._

"After all these years, he still hasn't successfully pulled another one of those grand harvests together," he specified. "Don't you think that that's a sign that his magic isn't enough?"

"We need to give him the hope from help," the Queen pressed. "After he accepts it, he can use the rest of the fruits to get Pottsfield back on its feet."

"It's not always that simple, my dear," he replied, smiling at such a time. "Magic is ultimately trial and error in method, in spite of having a reasonable goal in sight. You can enchant something — this plate, per say." He ran his fingers along the rim of the now-empty dish, moustache wrinkling in a thoughtful smirk. "You use your magic and make it refill with nourishing food whenever it is eaten from. And it works! The starving are in celebration! If the laziness of peasants thinking they're entitled to a meal isn't enough of a price to pay, you'll find that the markets are experiencing strange disappearances of produce. Those that work hard are punished due to your supposed good deed. A failure in the end."

She retreated slightly in her seat, eyes glistening with pain. "If that is true, then can magic not be of use?"

He lifted his hand and clapped once. Their lead chef bursted out of the nearby kitchen doors, presenting another course of the meal and setting it down in front of the monarch. After a short exchange, the worker left.

 _Those are the animals from the cage,_ the Queen observed with remorse, awaiting a response.

The light-brown-haired man dug his fork into a piece of meat, appearing smug in a way as he looked up at his wife. "Where were we? Ah, yes, I remember," he mused, taking a bite. "Magic, though unpredictable and untrustworthy, can in fact be of use if mastered properly. Each spell requires the utmost skill and familiarity with the end product in sight. For example, the two enchantresses that Enoch conspires with — Adelaide and Whispers — have been working on a breathtaking project for the Unknown for the past few years, reworking the same spell, but they haven't hit their mark yet. They have had so many unfortunate problems throughout the way and will undoubtedly have more."

"What?" the woman asked. "I never heard of any project."

"That's because it's a _secret_ project," he said, and she honestly saw his orbs flash darkly. "I thought I should respect their commitment and keep the knowledge to myself until it was ready to be revealed, but you seem interested enough and I believe this will help to let you understand my point."

She waited, dread overweighing her hope that his big revelation would be something beneficial.

"I figured out how to make _everyone_ stronger," the King explained, grinning from ear to ear in an unsettling manner. "Imagine! The endless expanse of the Unknown and not a _single_ creature or civilian without an alert mind and a formidable defense. A world where everyone is capable and free to protect themselves from impending danger! A populace that doesn't shy from mere robbers and can rebuild its own foundations! Doesn't that sound truly miraculous?"

"I am at a loss, my love . . ." the Queen trailed, small lips turned down. She was afraid to ask how such a task might be accomplished.

"Then let me put this into perspective. The night after the last harvest festival, I was distraught with myself. My training and dedication for this kingdom, for nought in the situation that pleaded most. If my authority meant anything, if our towns weren't left soft, I could have prevented that disaster. _We_ could have done something to stop that lowly Highwayman, had you seen my position from the start," he said bitterly, taking a long drink from his chalice and setting it firmly on the tabletop afterwards. "I knew you wouldn't be able to accept my ways. I could have talked to you in the morning, and you would try to coax me from my _ignorance_ , my _senseless aggression_ and tell me that _I_ was the one who was mislead. No. I remembered the enchantresses mentioned at the party. And that midnight, I took off on horseback while you were asleep."

Regret crawled up to the redhead's heart, clutching it with a single, cold claw. Her breath hitched in her throat, preventing her reply from surfacing. _It is my fault that he has been feeling this way. I never wished him to think himself like that. I was trying to protect him, my life's dearest King._

"You _alright_ , my Queen?" he asked without a heap of sympathy, contrasting his sharp features that momentarily mollified. "That phrase does bother me so. You always ask, but you'll never do anything to help it. I'm different, though. I _will_ help you. How can I improve your mood?"

"Don't . . . please, don't fear speaking to me of your . . . turmoils. I am sorry. I care for you. I just didn't realize that you were affected that severely . . ." she spoke, ignoring her dinner. She hadn't an appetite. "I will listen. I promise. I want to mend these wounds I've caused you."

"Among other things you didn't realize, I shall. I will tell you everything in the moment." The King continued eating, looking like he might laugh, reason unknown. Perhaps it was a joke. "As you asked, this is it! Reach for answers and you'll find them. Every one of them." His partial smile faded. "I rode to the cottage that Whispers lived in with her sister. I gave my word that they would be paid for their contributions if they kept my idea to themselves and suggested that they create . . . a beast. A monster brutal and chilling enough to strike every villain in our reaches into the dirt. Terrifying enough that grown men tremble to defend their families, forcing them to become apt. But also a creature that can slink in the darkness, patient to pounce, a spectral energy lingering in the forests when nothing happens. Now, you would _surely_ be against this valuable concept and unwilling to deal with the consequences. They weren't. Adelaide was glad for the experience and Whispers thought my intentions pure. Countless attempts to conjure this beast from the forest species have gone wrong. I have been checking on their progress for months upon months, investing our treasures into the search for the perfect specimen. The _attempts_ were sent back with me on every visit. Recall anything?"

His wife froze completely. _Those animals he keeps bringing . . . They aren't from a strange generation at all._ "I-I can't . . ."

" _Believe_ me?" he finished for her. "You can't _believe_ that I'd do something so drastic and _evil_ and not say anything to you? This isn't evil. This is the only path I could have taken to ensure that our subjects survive on _top_. Go ahead! Prove me wrong _again_ , darling Queen! Enlighten me with the voice that brightens the mountains! Show me why _our_ people love _you_!"

Her freezing heart shattered into bits. _He thinks he's unloved . . ._ Tears pricked at her vision, blurring her world. _It's untrue . . ._ " _I_ love you," she sincerely responded, matching his gaze with sadness.

Her husband seemed to stop at that, tender emotions passing beneath his exasperated visage. His fork was held in midair, mouth opening as if he were going to say something, but nothing came out.

Hope flared in her chest once more, longing for the trust they used to share. She would make it better. She would. She would. "Even if they have trouble seeing your side, that doesn't mean it's impossible. They can love you too. They might be soft, but they possess the ability to love and have true friendships, the two _strongest_ qualities of all."

Whatever crack in his composure was there smoothed over. "You don't know the _first_ thing about strength! This kingdom is _weak_ because of your pathetic views!" Angrily, he snatched one of the two small black turtles from his plate, the charred shell a brownish color after being seasoned. "Do you even know it's a _king_ dom? _I_ am the _King_! I rule over you _and_ everyone else! Why should _my_ decisions _ever_ be overlooked?"

She stared at him, grimacing and lacking a reply. The Queen thought she saw the cooked turtle's neck tilt towards her. But that was impossible. Still, it made her want to cry when he swallowed it whole, and she didn't see that the King was choking until he lunged for his water, gulping it down and sputtering.

The woman speedily stood from her seat, eyes wide and worried. "King, are —"

He stopped, breathing heavily, dropping his hand to rest it on his chest. Then the most horrible thing happened. He _changed_.

The uncanny process left the Queen dizzy and horrified as she watched her husband transform from man into monster. Branches slowly sprouted out of the sides of his skull, a pair of grim antlers reaching to grab the sky, dreadfully displacing his old crown and disordering his darkening hair. Actually, it was shadowy sap that seeped from his skin, his whole body quickly covered, the oily fluid soaking his regal clothes. His eyes glowed entirely white. Apart from that, he was himself when she matched her gaze with his, expression dreadful.

"What have I done?" she murmured, unable to hold in a sob.

"I will take care of this _myself_ ," he spat in a deeper voice, malice lacing the syllables. Standing, his form was suddenly imposing as he whipped around, dashing away, towards the front gate.

The Queen was bent in grief, face in her hands to wipe her tears while she weeped. _It is my fault that this tragedy happened._ She gasped, convulsing in agony. _I am the cause of his pain._

It took a reasonable while to gather herself, mind clicking information into place, putting together a huge, horrendous puzzle. She opened sore orbs to rest on the King's plate, steadying her breathing.

The second black turtle waddled off of it, completely alive. It innocently blinked at her. _The enchantresses . . . they put a spell on these turtles for him. He got his beast,_ she deducted, almost breaking down again. _Oh no. What i-if he . . . I have to stop him!_

"Guards! _Guards_!" she shouted, running as fast as she could. "Guards, you must prevent him from leaving!"

Finding a few stricken defenders in the hall, she appealed them to raise the alarm and retrieve her King before he made it into the forest. They were faster than her. They knew the King's ways, even if they usually didn't follow his system.

She rested against a wooden pillar decorated with flowering vines, panting in exhaustion, pulse racing. _Please. Let them catch him._ She could not lose her King. No matter what the cost, he was the one thing she would never sacrifice.


	4. Trifle Moments of Revelation

**Chapter 4: Trifle Moments of Revelation**

_Since umbra had his prevailing shroud,_

_The sun whose brilliance diminished,_

_Her glowing face veiled by else a cloud,_

_Must hope that the shadows have finished._

:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:-:o:

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Maximilian, head of the royal guard, apologised profusely, shedding stricken tears as he dipped over and over again into a bow. "We tried. H-he ran off into the forest. We lost him. There's nothing more we can do. Please forgive us. I-I'm sorry."

 _Oh no . . ._ Her lower lip trembled in a manner unbefitting of a grown monarch, shoulders squared in some semblance of her husband's strength. He always made it so important that they have a formidable defense for reasons like this. Now she saw clearly how incompetent they were. The palace had gates. Rows upon rows of inevitably crowded halls. Guards at every major doorway.

And yet the King made his way out without an issue.

 _There's too much at risk. And it is my fault that we're in this situation at all. I should have listened. He was right,_ she mourned, fighting back her own sobs that threatened to return. _No. I am the Queen. I must be strong now, if not before._

"The forest is _terribly_ frightening a-after those witches . . . I beg, d-don't make us go out there again."

"The blame is none of yours to take . . ." the woman assured, disappointed orbs moving over the sad coalition as she waved her hand in a soft gesture of dismissal. They were so worried that they forgot all semblances of amenity. For once, she didn't correct them. "Get some rest. This afternoon has worn thin."

No one stayed behind at that order, though a couple turned sympathetic eyes to her surely crumpling form and offered a few words of empty comfort before too disappearing with the others.

She stood alone for a short while, caressing one of her arms and staring blankly at the entrance. She imagined herself following the King, reaching out to him, the man turning, turning . . . back . . .

The image of the monster's beastly figure flashed sharply into her mind; the abhorrent, horrific disaster burned eternally in her memory. Dread and regret clawed at her insides and she gasped, cringing and stumbling in reverse, almost tripping on the impractical hem of her gown. Her heart beat rapidly, the hurried thumping of the organ causing sweat to bead down her neck.

It took more than a steadying of her breath to calm, the Queen placing her palm over her chest, fingers gripping at the fabric. Pray tell the King be able to survive the consequences of her actions, lest she absolutely fall to ruin. Eventually, she managed to regather herself, slowly stepping across the throne room and towards the far corridors of the palace.

Her attention lingered on the King's uninhabited seat, a dutiful pang reverberating through her system. She carried on.

Standing rather attentatively by the double doors leading to the dining room, his head bent low in submission, was the cook who had offered them their final course. He looked awfully remorseful.

Contrary to her character, a deep suspicion filled the Queen. Despite it being her fault. It had to be her fault. Somehow, she knew. But she wished it wasn't. "I told everyone that they could return to their quarters. What are you doing here, Gerard?"

"Awaiting . . . your presence," he said as if it were choking him to talk. "I swear, those turtles were dead when we brought them out. We . . . the food had nothing unusual in it. Mercy, I didn't sabotage our kingdom."

 _As if I have given anything but mercy._ The redhead solemnly pressed her mouth into a thin, pinkish line, straining to not picture the vividly distressing transformation for the uncounted occurrence of the day. "Are you certain?"

He drastically recoiled, expression completely taken aback. Consternation radiated from his very essence. "I b-beg your p-pardon?"

"No, excuse my wording," she clarified, sad to find that he was so severely afraid. "I meant the turtles. How did you know they were dead?"

"They were crisp and unmoving! We cooked them to the bone! I-I have never seen such . . . I swear, I did not conspire against you, my Queen, nor the throne. P-please, believe me."

"What if . . . those weren't ordinary turtles?"

Gerard stared at her, a desperation in his gaze. "None of the animals sent to this palace are ordinary, yet we've been serving them for years without consequence . . ."

"They're magical, Gerard. I know it," the redhead responded, feeling that awful tug at her chest, asking to cry. _No more tears._ "Those turtles were the latest arrivals and I do not trust the safety of their nourishment any longer. We will dispose of the leftovers and I shall make known what to do about the living creatures."

Reluctance warred with his gratitude, disposition starting to straighten. "As you wish. When will you have them removed?"

"Now," she commanded, then softening to a murmur, "or as soon as we can."

The staff member courteously placed his hand over his heart. "In my best graces, I hope you find our King."

The Queen near whispered, "Hope is all we have left."

o-o-o-o-o

And hope she did, the feelings of longing and deprivation building the very fibers of her being. When her status wasn't demanding her presence in the throne room, the Queen found herself lingering by her and her husband's bedside, arms draped one over the other on their windowsill.

Her stare would rake the sun-silhouetted mountains, the darkening trees, the creek glistening with the reflection of a trillion peeking stars, searching for that familiar figure until she could see no more. Then she would say his name, ask him why, and when, and how, and then scold herself to sleep, the constant battering of his criticism missing, replaced by a silence that was not so welcome, the only sound to accompany her the rise and fall of her breath.

It was her routine, a seeming punishment for her ignorance. The wasted time elicited nothing beneficial. Nothing could make up for her failures in the Queen's eyes, and each day and night she spent her spare seconds grieving that very fact.

More and more, the passing weeks added to the lone royal's burden. Her formerly carefree disposition crammed to fit in her finicky, worried mind. The servants had to have noticed; their conversations often became hushed when she was around. Many of her closer subjects she consulted for a share of the supposed secret, but the answers were the same. Awkwardly distant.

However, people continued in waves to reach the monarch for aid, traveling to the palace and setting the entire staff ablaze with submersed panic. Strangely, their cases were not personal, yet directed at the Queen. They made her feel frozen.

"The forest is going to swallow up this palace!" said one of them. "We've heard the wind whispering!"

"I heard it too," said another, insisting. "He speaks!"

"My King?" the Queen gasped, moving forward to meet them halfway.

"The wind, I say! The wind and the trees!"

"Nay, it is the leaves that whisper, not the trees! The leaves that fall to the ground!"

"The animals!" someone shouted, thrusting through the crowd to take place before the Queen. "It is the wicked creatures of the forest, risen into one voice! The beasts! It is the beasts; say it isn't true!"

The redhead glanced between them, overwhelmed, trying to keep up. "The . . . beasts?"

"The beasts! The Beast!" her subject emphasized. "Be warned, My Queen! You must stop them!"

A murmur rippled in the cavernous room, quickly falling silent. Expectant gazes settled a gripping hold on their leader. She was meant to do something she did not know to protect from what she could not control.

"Thank you all for coming," the Queen ended up saying, barely able to contain the tremors terrorizing her system. "I will . . . make haste in supporting the fortification of the palace. Please do not be afraid."

It sounded hollow in her ears.

o-o-o-o-o

Stone. Stone walls, stone pillars, everything entirely stone cold.

The Queen stood watching volunteers stack rocks in an effort to combat the creeping forest, its gnarled trunks and unceasing shrubbery appearing to inch closer every day. There was an uncanny chill to the air, a breeze carrying promises of rain.

"The beastly wind!" Maximilian trotted over to her, the whites of his eyes a stark contrast to his tanned face. He was adorned still in his palace regalia, costume unrealizing of his lack of actual protecting he was doing. "I hear it! Can you?"

"What . . . is he . . . telling you?" she asked, barely speaking, head turned to the forest. A swift gust was blowing, forcing goosebumps to crawl up her clothed arms. Eerie in a way she had never felt before. But to her, she heard no voice. No spoken promises. No uncanny threats.

Just the wind.

A deep, howling, strangely frigid wind, but the wind nonetheless.

Somehow, it made it all the more worse.

"Maximilian?" the Queen said again, staring at him wearily. "What do you hear?"

He matched her gaze, taking a step in reverse. His orbs were wider than the full moon. "You . . . are doomed, madam Queen."

 _Doomed._ The single word shook in her skull just as the imposing wind picked up from its stalling trail, the monarch's red bangs loosening out of her bun. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to promise that she would be alright, that everyone would. But those were promises she could no longer make.

The man suddenly reeled in terror, startling into a sprint for the palace gates. Wails erupted from the volunteer workers, everyone haphazardly scrambling to follow. The Queen stood, paralyzed, when she saw why.

The churning clouds were releasing a heavy sprinkle of tummulting ice, the tiny particles collecting on the unfinished fortress, in the gaps and crevices of the palace, blanketing trees, whipping everywhere with the wind. Some of the ice made its way into her hair, swirling into her face, covering her dress. Panic spiked, the Queen realized what exactly was happening.

 _Snow._ She quickly snapped up the length of her skirt into a transportable bundle, trying to keep it out of the mud and packing accumulation. Her mind was racing, already-freezing feet moving towards shelter. _The Unknown isn't_ supposed _to snow._ She had only heard stories from the travelers who lived in reality. Never before had the Unknown _snowed_.

The monarch stumbled, her view obscured by the white flurries. A shadow crossed her vision once, leaving so suddenly that she doubted she saw a shadow at all. People were yelling for her, gathered in the arching safety of the inner palace. Many of them were unable to bring themselves to help her, and she had to trudge back herself.

By the time she reached shelter, the gardens were completely white. Her soldiers were shuddering, the peasants weeping, servants clustered in bewildered groups around her, reaching to the Queen and offering every kind of aid but that required going into the blizzard.

Alice even offered to make her a new dress, despite the trembling of her hands as she guided her ruler further into the warmth of their reforming castle while Maximilian voiced his concerns.

The Queen was soaking wet and radiating cold, shivering when she turned her head to cough into her left shoulder. She then noticed how her lungs burned. Luckily, the heat still in the throne room eased the pain until it faded.

"My Queen . . . what are we to do?" a peasant asked her feebly. "What . . . _is_ this?"

"Snow, my dears . . ." she answered, glancing once more at the onslaught. "Snow in the sweet Unknown."

o-o-o-o-o

Her hair was no longer the beautiful, shining red of before. The Queen twisted her dulling tresses, staring at their orange-brown color. Ever since the day in the snowstorm, it hadn't been the same. Like a strawberry left to rot, the Queen's hair had diminished in vividity.

Nobody dared to sympathize with her. They knew she was failing to combat the changes. They knew talking less of it would mean nothing. She rather them spare the words.

The forest did not overtake the palace. Nevertheless, where the plants fell short, the weather made up for it. The Queen had to order the volunteers to stop building the castle's defenses, more concerned with preserving what was left on the inside. In all honesty, she felt relieved that they were stopping. With every packed stone, there was a vague semblance of isolation. Incomplete, at least her King could possibly return. She scolded herself for the naïve thought.

Sending messengers outside became a difficult task. As their ruler, she was determined to keep a stance of strength and found it unbearably taxing to hold the kingdom together without the King by her side. But everyone was afraid.

Done with her hair, the Queen left the bedroom for the expansiveness of the great hall, her fingertips pinching the contours of her dress in her slight frenzy. No guards stood alert in the corridors leading to. Her servants were all tending to themselves. But she had somewhere to be.

Her first reporter of the towns was none other than Enoch himself. The mayor of Pottsfield had come upon her saddened gate a week before the current day, his pumpkin costume absent and midnight pelt slick with snow.

"Enoch!" she'd said. "Why aren't you at home?"

The cat simply gazed up at her in a grave, intelligent way, unable to speak using her language. But his posture held volumes. And so did his mouth. Enoch set a scrawny, limp mouse carefully upon the tiled floor. Its fur was laced with icicles, browned feet curled.

"P-poor thing . . ." the Queen had mourned, reaching down to cradle it. She let out a keening hiss when her fingertips brushed against its stiff form, her arm instantly retracting and crawling with gooseflesh. _What?_

Enoch stared at her, blinking his large amber eyes. He had waited.

The mouse didn't move.

"No . . ." she'd said, entranced in fear. "This isn't right. T-the Unknown . . . is a safe place."

The feline meowed lowly, disagreement evident in the way his black hair stood on end. Enoch's ears tipped backwards, flattening like the fields upon fields of crop she was sure became damaged by the unexpected season.

"We . . . we're going to starve, my poor . . ." the Queen hiccupped, overtaken by grief. _This is the Unknown; we're supposed to be happy. This shouldn't have . . . my King . . ._ She stood suddenly on shaking legs, unwilling to set her eyes on the miserable form any longer. "I-I . . . please inform me if anything else comes up. I'll figure out what I can do."

There was a single pause before Enoch had shifted on his haunches, probably grabbing the expired creature in his open jaws. He hadn't done anything else, nor would she have seen him, for the cat padded outside again in the moment after.

Even now, his message was clearly powerful, sitting heavily in her chest as she scurried down the last flight of stairs and made it into the open throne room. A stray passerby the other few days had come with news of Enoch's close return. The civilian was cold, fatigued by the winter's trials, but he was determined to let her know about the other parts of the Unknown, supposedly in exchange for warmth and provisions.

He took nothing. Instead, the man left almost immediately after the blizzard was over. While in the palace, he offered his opinion and desire to survive. He told her about the Beast.

He told her about the King. _The Beast._ The way people began shutting themselves in their homes to avoid the Beast. _The King._ The way those with a need to stop the winter had to train their lifestyles to endure it. The way the Highwayman was forced to retreat from an attempt at stealing a family's food. By force. _Defense._

Apart from the palace guards, no one was really made to do that.

It was difficult for her to accept it. The King . . . the Beast . . . got what he wanted, but not in the way he wanted. Everything was wrong. Everything could have been different. It could have been better.

Those thoughts are what drove her into losing her lustrous hope. Once the man left for his famished village, he told her that the only payment he would consent to take was the removal of the Beast's evil season. He told her he expected change.

Until today, the Queen didn't have an idea to fix things. Until today, she had worried without end because she couldn't leave her palace to venture alone, and she couldn't tell her staff to go for her when they were all afraid. They deserved to rest after what she put them through.

But today she knew that her loyal visitor was going to mend the Unknown's pain. She had a solution that would set off a chain of great things. If only he was willing. If only her plan would work.

"There he is!" the redhead breathed in relief, stepping over to the gap she'd left between the large double doors. "Enoch, I am so glad to see you!"

Bending over, the Queen smiled at her feline companion. Enoch's mouth was empty this time, though his eyes were full of understanding. He flicked his black tail lightly against her hand after entering, a touch soft and wet with frost.

"I figured it out, my friend," she cooed. "I remember a detail my husband mentioned to you at Pottsfield all those years back. The Enchantresses?"

The cat didn't seem surprised, tail suspending its movement. Waiting.

"Well. I gave it some thought . . . and . . . well, my husband kept in contact with them for a while and he finally . . ." the Queen stopped, shaking her head. "Ah, well. I believe they wanted to do what was right, deep down. But now the people are talking of the Witches of the Unknown, and . . . I'm sure they don't deserve that."

Memories of the townspeople's harsh words reverberated in her head. The two women had become the nightmare fuel of the whole kingdom. All because of their practices for the King. It was appalling to think of how drastically their actions affected them. Such sorrow filled her heart.

"Their names are Adelaide and Whispers, yes?"

Enoch actually nodded.

"I cannot leave this palace. And everyone else is afraid."

He blinked slowly.

"Would it be possible for you to find them and ask them to come here? I don't know if word has spread to them about the King and . . . they're just so secluded. I haven't even had the chance to meet them, not with all the commotion stirring around. Adelaide and Whispers must know what I can do. Would you be willing to go to them for me?"

After another moment, the feline turned away, passing his gaze over her once before pelting back into the frigid outdoors. He was gone in a wisp. Spirited away like the Beast from the dining chamber.

Only this time she had hope.

Long ago, she promised Enoch that she would not lose it.

"Thank you . . ." she muttered to the air. "I hope you make it safely."

The Queen stood, reaching for her tumbled orange hair and tucking a loose strand behind her crown. She then shut the doors. Immediately, the vast room warmed and the air seemed to still.

Opposite of herself, her very essence tingled with newfound excitement. She wanted to dance. She wanted to run alongside Enoch and find her King again.

She wanted to tell everyone in the palace that it was going to be okay.

Because Enoch would find them. And bring them. And make it okay.

But . . . she also wanted to cry.

Tears of joy? Tears of pain? Either way, they trekked her face in a matter of heartbeats.

There was no certainty that they would come. Even less that they could help.

If what happened to her King was irreversible . . . then would the Unknown have the Beast forever?

Was there truly a reason to hope?

She wiped those fickle drops from her skin, kneading her cheek with her teeth. "Of course."

Of course.

No one knew anything of the future in the Unknown.

Their fate . . . was unknown.

Thus the best she could do was hope.

Hope and keep hoping.

It was her duty as Queen. 


End file.
